


In My Veins

by oliveriley



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/F, drugs tw, relapse tw, who didn't hug me as a child, why do i not love myself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 13:14:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4306470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oliveriley/pseuds/oliveriley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but the battle hasn't ended in Johanna Mason's head... or her heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Veins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sylverunicorn (sylviewashere)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylviewashere/gifts).



> _In My Veins_ \- Andrew Belle
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don't own the song, the characters, etc. I'd be way richer if I did.  
> (i also want to apologize to my parents for researching morphine highs on their wifi god bless)

District Seven was quiet. The small cabin to which Johanna had moved was out of the way and she couldn't even hear the thudding of felled trees or the lumbermen yelling. Nothing as she shook like leaves on a sawed tree, flicking the needle expertly and shutting her eyes as it pricked her skin and the slow, steady burn began to engulf her. It was momentary but fierce, the morphling entering her blood with the bite of cheap whiskey and she gritted her teeth before a sigh of relief, before the thoughts began to haze and she slumped against the wall of her dry bathtub, the tremble less and the need sated. She lay in her drugged stupor with her eyes unfocused at a fixed point in the ceiling, everything brighter and fuzzier around the edges, a halo almost, as her pupils shrank. A gentle sigh escaped through her lips and she felt her eyelids begin to droop as the familiar ache settled in her legs and the back of her neck, and then.... _her._ The memories came in flashes: laughter cut through the fog, giggles muted as if they were underwater, glimpses of skin and twirling girls and, God, she really missed her singing. A song floated through the haze but remained bubbling underneath the other snatches of the past, occasionally loud enough to echo in her mind and ears, but she couldn't place it. The voice would never leave her though. Johanna closed her eyes and her breath hitched as she tried to grasp the other woman, as if she could bring her out of her own mind.  


_"Come back with me, birdbrain," she murmured, nudging Katniss's jaw with her nose, fingers searching for hold as they glided up the other woman's sides. "We can live quietly. Away from everything - the noise, the reconstruction, the staring. We don't have to be victors anymore." She kept her head ducked and eyes away from the face over hers, staring at the hollow of Katniss's throat, covered in patchwork skin and smoothed with kisses, flush from activity. "Come home."_   
_"Yes," she whispered. "As soon as they let me, Jo. I'm coming home."_   


Johanna groaned from the tub, her head lolling to the side in what would have been an uncomfortable angle if she wasn't high enough to knock out a Mutt. The noise that escaped her throat next was nothing short of terrible, a choking half-sob that was the universal sound of a heart shattering. She coughed and sputtered, spittle foaming on her lips but she was too heavy to wipe it away, too light to feel it, and too far gone to realize she was crying alone in a bathtub that hadn't been used in weeks. The memories could be okay, but this was the one that haunted her. Instead of her mansion in the abandoned Victor's Village, she was sprawled out in the ceramic coffin she'd allowed to be placed in the cabin she had erected herself. She had sealed it in herself, making sure no water would escape, making sure it was big enough for two. But instead, she was the sole tenant, because despite the room in her home and heart, she hadn't been enough. And Peeta had a breakthrough, and she returned to the Capitol for Katniss in her finest, with her skin clean and hair brushed out, ready to bring her home, only to shatter at Effie's feet. Because it would always be Wonder Boy, she should have known, should have known, should have known. And suddenly the ache wasn't drug-induced, and she shook like a saw was tearing through her middle and her heart was in her stomach, and no one would clean up her mess.  


_I'm coming home._   



End file.
